


The Honey Moon

by wily_one24



Series: Phases of the Moon [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, No plot at all, PWP, Smut, buah hah hah 'sweet', i'm not kidding this time, if you're after plot you need to go somewhere else, no plot in sight, nothin' but smut, sweet sweet lady love, two ladies bangin', wall to wall smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2014-08-16
Packaged: 2018-02-13 09:37:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2145873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wily_one24/pseuds/wily_one24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You wouldn't let me touch you." It’s a reprimand, a reminder, a narration. “I wonder if you know how torturous that was for me."</p><p>
  <i>Regina invites Emma over after their interlude at the Blue Moon.</i>
</p><p>“I want to feel you now.” A hot whisper to the ear in front of her. “I want to touch you and taste you and f*** you senseless until you can barely remember your own name.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Honey Moon

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** : Just a sweet (hee!) little interlude between actual plot filled stories, think of it as a sexy bridge made of smut bricks. Yes, that does mean that there's a third segment planned for this series. But those of you who know me know enough not to hold their breath for a timely update. Those of you who don't know me... yeah. I live by Katharine Hepburn's words: "Never apologise; never explain". 
> 
> **A/N:** Yeah, it ends abruptly... there is a reason. If any of you are patient enough for the third installment.

***

Five days. 

Regina waited five days before giving in. She can’t exactly say that she has no interest or no need for the woman currently stalking up her garden path right now. Not that she’s been waiting for the last twenty minutes since she finally made the call, she just _happened_ to be glancing out through the curtains when the headlights of that infernal yellow monstrosity parked by the curb outside of her house. 

She has not been counting the very minutes and certainly hasn’t been biting the edge of her tongue to slow her breathing. 

Not at all. 

But, but she most definitely has. She has absolutely been thinking of nothing but Emma Swan since that night, her thighs and eyes and belly button and the way she whimpers as she comes. She wants this as she has wanted nothing else in the near thirty years of this land. 

Pretence is futile at this point, given that there is no way to disguise the breathy way in which she’d demanded the woman come to her house over the phone, so Regina just throws open the door before Emma even has a chance to knock, reaching out to grab a fist full of black tank and drag the woman inside. 

It’s an easy shove to the back of the door and Regina presses fully into the woman. Her hands are sliding into the wondrously sinuous curves of a waist and her mouth is about to close on a hot, salty neck when she hears it. 

“Woah. Woah! Regina, stop!”

One breath in and a count to five before she pulls back to glare at her. 

“It’s just…” Emma’s face turns red and she reaches one jerky hand up behind her neck to scratch nervously there. “… I mean, it’s just us right now? Right?”

There are many ways to take that question, but Regina isn’t stupid and she sees the slight fear and defensiveness behind Emma’s eyes. 

“Ms Swan.” Her voice is even and calm and it surprises her a great deal, given the contrast of her rushing, boiling blood. “I hope you’re not suggesting I would ever entertain the thought of inviting strippers or prostitutes into my house for solicitation when my ten year old son is asleep upstairs in his room?”

The relief is instantaneous. 

“Right.” Emma nods. “Okay then. So…”

“Just you.” Regina confirms, fingers twitching where they’d stilled against the tank. “Just me. Two women. One of which is incredibly aroused and ready to get what she was denied five nights ago.”

A blink, the light little dusting of eyelashes across the pinkened cheeks and Regina has the strangest urge to kiss the lids. One she shakes off instantly. 

“Two.” Whispers Emma, a hoarse little promise of what’s to come. “Two aroused women.”

Then Regina feels hands at her hips that pull her forward and she presses herself hard and willingly into the soft curves offered. Her mouth opens again and she doesn’t bother with slight introductions, sucking a large quantity of neck skin between her teeth hard as her fingers squeeze into soft flesh. 

She has seen this, she has seen every inch of Emma Swan, but this is a thousand time better, her hands gliding up the waist to the flare of chest, that swell at the sides of her breasts, thumbs curving around just enough to tease at the sides of Emma’s nipples, to cause a wonderful ripple of a groan. 

“My bedroom.” Regina orders, with no room for interpretation. “First door on the right. I want you naked.”

Emma’s mouth gapes open, her eyes only slightly glazed. 

“You had me at quite the disadvantage, Emma.” The words come trilling out of her mouth, low key and sex heavy. “I plan on remedying that immediately.”

It’s forceful, it’s close to being rude and supposes way too much, but Regina is so keyed up that they might not make it to the bedroom if she doesn’t take charge this very second. And she refuses to rut against the entry door to her house out in the open. 

Also, there’s a plate waiting on her bedside table that she would definitely hate to go to waste. 

She follows Emma up the stairs, watching the interplay of ass muscles and the denim that covers them. Emma fully dressed is more of a tease than Emma half naked and gyrating against a pole. There’s a moment where she weighs the pros and cons of just reaching out and mounting Emma right there on the stairs, but she has just enough self-control to wait. 

That they would do this was a foregone conclusion the moment Regina sat in the chair in that private room and locked eyes with Emma, mouth going sand paper dry as the woman stripped for her, the way her nerves felt electrified and her hands moved without permission to grasp at forbidden skin. 

She thought by waiting so long she would create necessary distance, but this has backfired. Their heavy, throbbing, needy lust has followed them out of the Blue Moon and into their lives, into her house, into the very air that crackles with sex before either of them has even taken off one piece of clothing.

Stepping into the room, Regina pauses and does not move, watching Emma sit on the end of her bed and cross one foot over the opposite knee to unlace her boots. Those damnable boots, the utilitarian movement should kill the mood, but she takes it, eyes drinking in the everyday sights that were denied her all those times in the club when Emma had appeared already half naked and available, a magical sexual fairy for her pleasure. 

Here, Emma is a woman, an entire person, and Regina watches her release one foot from a boot and then peel the sock off, watches the bubble pink toes stretch in an unconscious reach for freedom, before she moves on to the other foot. 

She falls to her knees between Emma’s legs, surprising both of them at once, and takes her hands, pushes them back onto the bed and forcing Emma to lean back. Eyes boring straight into green ones, she reaches for the button of Emma’s fly and flips it open. 

“God, Regina…” 

Emma licks her lips and then sucks the lower one into her mouth to worry it with her teeth, on edge and waiting for Regina’s next movement. 

In the club, Regina’s mouth was sandpaper dry and she’d ordered drink after drink, sloshing the liquid down her throat to lubricate it enough to breathe, but here in the room this close to Emma, able to touch her, Regina’s mouth is flooded with saliva, leaking down her canine teeth. 

An echo of the flooding between her legs. 

Her knuckles brush against denim, the inside seam of Emma’s thigh, as she pulls the zip down and the sucking of air into Emma’s lungs is loud and audible. Regina grins as she slides both her hands, fingers first, into the metal toothed gap of an open fly and begins to spread the jeans apart, fingers sliding deliberately over quivering stomach flesh. 

“Up.”

Emma is beautifully obedient as she rests her weight on her hands and lifts her hips off the mattress, allowing Regina to both pull the jeans down her legs and come face to face with black boy cut panties, a severe contrast to the thongs and glittery flash of her stripper gear. 

Pulling the material all the way down long, long legs, Regina tosses them to the side and then slides her hands up each leg on either side of her. First the tops of her feet, tendinous and hot, over the curve of ankle and up fleshy calves, bony knees and onto the molten heat of tense thighs. 

She uses the momentum to continue all the way up, over hips and into waists, sliding under the tank top and pushing it up, over a ribcage and breasts until Emma’s face is covered and she has to sit down to raise her arms above her head, until Regina strips this from her too. 

Emma is long and lean and muscular, the physicality of her work obvious in her flat belly and rippled arms, in the strength that oozes from her, and Regina kneels up, leans forward and finally, finally, catches her mouth in a kiss, bruising and demanding and reciprocated. 

“Tell me you wanted this as much as I did.” Her words tumble from her mouth straight into Emma’s, combining hot streams of breath. “Tell me I’m not alone in this.”

Emma pulls back. 

“God, Regina…” A shake of a head results in blonde curls tumbling over shoulders and against Regina’s. “Do you honestly think I do this with everyone? Even our dances went too far…”

“Good.” She declares, strong and sudden and demanding a cease in the rambling. “That’s all I need to know.”

She doesn’t waste any more time, sliding her hands around Emma’s ribs along the band of black cotton until she finds a clasp and flicks it open, pulling the bra down Emma’s arms and tossing it aside. Placing both her hands, fingertips first, on the sternum in front of her, Regina pushes fully until Emma falls flat on her back. 

Her eyes drink in the jiggling flesh of the breasts as they bounce, topped by delicious looking nipples. 

Emma laughs, part surprise, part amusement, and slightly nervous. 

“Scoot back, reach your hands up and take hold of the bed head behind you.” 

She doesn’t wait to see if she’s obeyed, taking it for a fait accompli, just stands up and stretches her arms behind her, reaching until she finds the little tab of her zipper and pulls it down, stepping out of her dress without fanfare. It slithers down her body and slumps to the floor with a quiet little whoosh, followed quickly by her bra, and the fresh air that caresses her newly bared flesh leaves goose pimples in its wake. 

Emma is appreciative and wide eyed, taking in her body with clear unashamed desire. 

“You wouldn’t let me touch you.” It’s a reprimand, a reminder, a narration. “I wonder if you know how torturous that was for me.”

Her right knee comes up to the edge of the mattress, followed closely by her hips and the left knee. She pushes them easily between Emma’s ankles, forcing the woman to adjust her stance, spread her legs slightly apart. 

“You need to hold on. If you let go, for any reason, I will stop. We’ll put on our clothes and go our separate ways and never speak of this again, it’s the ultimate safety word. Do you understand?”

One large swallow later and Emma nods, mouth hanging open and pupils dilated to the point of swirling blackness. The only other response is the tightening of fingers around the bar of the head board, knuckles paling with the strength of the grip. 

“I could barely control myself.” She continues, edging her knees forward inch by inch, pushing Emma’s legs further out the closer she gets. “I couldn’t, once or twice, but you know that. You did it on purpose, you wanted to tease me. Yes, I know, that’s what I paid for, but you did it so well.”

Reaching high between Emma’s thighs, Regina lets herself fall forward onto her hands, on all fours above the panting woman. She bends her elbows and lowers her mouth close to Emma’s face. 

“I want to feel you now.” A hot whisper to the ear in front of her. “I want to touch you and taste you and fuck you senseless until you can barely remember your own name.”

“… fuck.” 

The low, rumbling growl of Emma’s voice comes out shaky and uncontrolled and Regina grins to hear it. Kneeling up again, she takes a moment to just look, to scan the body stretched out and spread before her. Available now, to be touched at her will, skin glowing and flushed, the belly rising and falling with breath. 

Her fingertips fall, all ten of them at once, in a dome across Emma’s belly button, a winking little crevasse that she wants to stick her tongue in and out of. Then she spreads her palms out flat, feels the heat of skin and the density of muscle underneath, before sliding her hands up the middle of Emma’s chest, around her shoulders and back down. 

The creases of her palm, all heart, love and life lines, fold around the smooth globes of breasts, smooth over nipples that pucker into her grip, and her hands continue their journey back down and across to hips. It’s a circular rhythm again and again, a flow, the spreading of heat and touch, just feeling the flesh under her as Emma whimpers slightly. 

“Beautiful.” She whispers as she leans to the side and delicately picks up a golden cube. “Close your eyes and open your mouth.”

After a split second of confusion, Emma obeys again, pink tongue glistening obscenely in a moist and ready mouth. 

“Don’t bite or suck or chew this.” Her voice remains steady and she rocks slightly on her knees, feels the trigger of her own pounding arousal begging to be sated as she places the nugget on Emma’s tongue. “Just hold it there.”

Her forefinger drags deliberately down across a plump lower lip and her eyes watch hawk like as it springs back immediately. She leans down to suck it between her own and nibble into the next whimper that Emma gives her. 

“Honeycomb.” A whispered kiss against a salty neck, a slide of her tongue across a pulsating vein. “Let it melt slowly.”

Emma’s nipples peak harshly as she grips them and tugs, flattening her palms straight after to soothe. Her mouth follows soon after, alternating between sucking and laving and biting as she takes as much breast as she can in her mouth. 

“Taste it, Emma.” Another order as she slides her right hand down over a hip, across a thigh, and up again to the cloth covered source of heat she can feel on her knees. “Feel the syrup slide down your throat.”

Emma gives a moan. 

Regina flattens her hand against Emma’s sex and laves her tongue across a crystal hard nipple. 

“And imagine how sweet I’ll taste when I finally let you eat me out.”

She rides the bucking of Emma’s hips, the spasmodic undulation of her spine as she feels the gush of wetness against her palm. The tip of her middle finger crooks and probes at a sopping wet cavern through cotton, but never entering. 

“Not so easy not to touch now, is it?”

Emma keens low in her throat as the pleasure of teasing reaches torturous proportions and the climax denied her builds up over and over again without cresting. 

“All I wanted…” Regina groans it, almost beyond caring at this point. “… was to touch you, reach out and feel you.”

She’s making up for it now, in spades, her right hand pushing against Emma’s pubic bone and her fingers sliding against wet, puffy lips under her panties, as her left hand slides in under Emma’s neck and tangles in her hair, her mouth roaming freely over nipples and breasts and neck. 

Regina could mark her now, could clamp her teeth down over a throbbing vein and suck until she tastes each red blood cell that pops through the skin. 

Her body humps, a reaction to the lifting of hips underneath her, the shifting as Emma’s thighs stretch even wider and plead in a way denied her mouth. She could drag this out, but there is a thin line between pleasure and frivolous pain. 

It’s easy to pull her hand up and slide it back down under the cotton, to feel the heated slick lips, her middle finger slicking between the labia and spreading them apart, from entrance to clit and back down again. They both groan low, a rumble that seems to reverberate and echo between them. 

Then Regina does bite down and Emma bucks as her mouth opens and swallows large gasps of air and her sex swallows three of Regina’s fingers. Tugging on her hair, Regina pulls Emma’s head back, stretches her neck and makes her spine arch, pushes her breasts against her own. 

“Re-Re-Regina!” They honeycomb is long gone and Emma has held back as much as she can, Regina grins at the desperation in the woman’s voice. “Fuck!”

There is no beauty and no grace in their desperate, humping movements, the gasping and sweating and grunting, the syncopated heaving of muscles bunching and releasing, both of them straining. Emma gives a low cry and Regina thrusts deeper and harder than ever, twisting her fingers and curling them in over and over again until the woman comes underneath her. 

Emma’s hands come down out of nowhere, a desperate scramble down Regina’s body, sliding over sweat slick shoulders and down her spine, across her hips to grab into the indentation of her waist, pulling her up. Regina scrabbles, trying to move as quickly as Emma is dragging her, grabbing the headboard and pulling herself. 

Her legs feel limp and ungainly as she kneels around Emma’s torso and then up over her shoulders, she has no choice as Emma pulls her hard and fast down onto her face. 

***

Emma comes again before Regina. 

The height of rude manners, but she is still worked up from her first orgasm and the silky musk of Regina’s thighs clamped around her face, the heat of her slicking up and down her mouth and chin, makes Emma’s insides clench until it pushes her over again. 

Neither of them seems to mind, Regina gives a low cry as Emma’s fingers grip tighter on her waist and hold her more firmly. Emma opens her mouth wider and makes her tongue as solid as it will go, fucking her as hard as she can. 

Regina had grabbed her as soon as she’d walked in the door, before she’d made it all the way through actually. Every moment since then has been hard and fast and violent and so desperately good that they haven’t had a second to breathe. Emma likes it rough and she likes it hard, she isn’t shy about that fact. 

But she also has a great appreciation for the softer side of things. 

So when Regina arches her back and opens her mouth wide, holding in the cries as much as she can, Emma lets go of her waist and wraps her arms up and around the woman’s spine, enough to cradle the body as she twists them both. 

Regina’s body is fluid underneath hers, limp and sated and open, and Emma nuzzles the expanse of throat bared her. She lifts her head just enough to rest her forehead on Regina’s, to take a moment to look down the woman’s body all heaving curves and limp limbs. 

A weak little nudge is Regina’s hand trying to push her shoulder up. 

It’s easy to gather Regina’s hands in her own and hold them still against the sheet beside her head. Her legs are warm and sweaty, slick and nestled into spaces created by Regina’s own, her hips straddling just below Regina’s, and when she breathes in their nipples glide over each other. 

Emma lowers her mouth and kisses the side of Regina’s. After a second, Regina reacts, twisting her face to the left and away, before coming back up separate from her. 

“Ms Swan.”

“Emma.” She insists, sliding her lips onto the soft waiting ones before they can continue. “Call me Emma.”

There’s a deep sigh that lifts Emma like the wave of an ocean. She kisses again and again, until the forearms pressing up against hers relax, until Regina opens her mouth and lets Emma in, until Regina starts responding, a low rumble of a moan she would never admit to. 

It’s the capitulation that is Emma’s undoing and she forgets to pay attention. She’s on her back again before she knows it, pinned under Regina’s triumphant glare and firm hold as the woman gloats. 

“I promised you a good fucking.” Even her words make Emma’s lungs expand, obscene and deadly and delicious. “And I’m not done yet.” 

She gets the message, loud and clear. She has been called many things in her time, but slow was never one of them. Emma grins and stays still as Regina pushes up and off her, waiting obediently for the fulfilment of the promise. Her eyes travel up to look at the ceiling, strange and alien and clean and open, Emma wonders what the rest of the house is like in daylight. If she will ever get to see. 

When Regina turns around from the dresser she’d been fussing in, Emma’s mouth runs dry. She forgets every train of thought she’s ever had and the only thing her brain registers is Regina’s voice in the club that first night, saying she wanted to make Emma ride her strap on so hard she wouldn’t be able to walk for a week. 

“Turn around. I want you on your hands and knees.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Is the only thing Emma can manage. “Yes.”

***

finit


End file.
